Little Dove
by anarane2
Summary: A woman's most cherished memories...
1. Chapter 1

The old woman dressed in widow's weed walked around the small enclosed peach orchard. Her granddaughter sat on the bench, head bent over a book, her cloak wrapped tightly around her. It was early winter and although the wind was cold the sun softened its bite a little. She loved to come here everyday and walk about, remembering the past and this place held her dearest memories. Memories she had shared with no one in her long life and which she hoarded in her heart like a miser would his treasure. It was here that she had asked her first born son to be buried when her life finished. Although her body was aged, bent and wrinkled, her step was still sprite and her blue eyes shown with youthful lucidity. A soft breeze made her black veil flutter and she looked up sharply, her nose picking up the scent of peaches. In early winter? How strange, and like the countless times in the past when she smelt peaches, she remembered him.

She was six the first time she had seen him. Her nurse had taken her for a walk and they passed the open sparring arena. She saw a young boy, perhaps fourteen or fifteen years of age fighting with another boy. His hair was unruly and his clothing unkept but he fought so well, that she paused to watch them, her nurse wandering over to one of the stalls across the dirt road.

Suddenly the sword master reached out and threw him to the ground. He sprang to his feet glaring at the older man but kept his temper in check. He was quickly dismissed and picking up his sword disappeared into the stable that adjoined the arena. She looked around and seeing her nurse still occupied with the merchant, picked up her skirts and ran in after him. He had sunk to the ground, his legs drawn up, his head bent and his hands were gripping his knees. She walked over and sat down next to him. He didn't move at all as if she were not there and she sensed that he was ashamed to been seen thus. Looking at his profile she impulsively slipped her little hand into his rough one.

"I get scolded too by my school master when I don't do my lessons well." She said softly.

He didn't say anything, he didn't even turn to look at her, but she felt his hand squeeze hers tightly.

"Erato! Erato! Where are you?" The frantic voice of her nurse was heard.

She scrambled to her feet and looking at him one more time ran out. Every day she walked in the market with her nurse, always pausing to watch the boys sparring. Spring turned to summer, followed by autumn and winter. A year passed and she was told that she would be taken back to Rome until she grew into a woman to return and marry the noble lord her parents had chosen for her. The next day, her last at the fort, she paused silently saying goodbye to the boy. He stood just on the other side of the fence, looking on at his companions, giving no sign that he was aware of her presence. Just as she was about to turn and leave he turned and looked at her behind stray locks of hair.

"Good bye little dove." He said with a sad smile before he turned away.


	2. Chapter 2

Thirteen years passed before she was once again summoned back to Britain. Although she had been away for so long, within a few days she felt more at home there than she had felt in Rome. She had gone to the market on her second day and paused in front of the sparring arena, remembering the boy she had left behind so many years ago, but it was deserted. It was spring again and she sat on a stone bench in the enclosed orchard enjoying the night. She heard the rustling of leaves and looked up just in time to see someone jumping noiselessly from the low wall. His hair was unruly, his clothes unkept… and a smile lit up her features.

The hesitant look in his brown eyes disappeared to be replaced by a twinkle.

"I heard my little dove had returned and I came to see her." He said in a rich accented voice.

"Your little dove?" she laughed arching a finely sculpted eyebrow.

His eyes sparkled and he smiled.

"That is how I have thought of you all these years. I see the child has grown into a beautiful woman." He said softly.

"And the boy into a fine knight." She replied smiling sweetly and impulsively slipped her hand into his. He didn't say anything, but looked into her eyes and squeezed her hand.

Thus they began, each night meeting and talking about their lives, each telling the other what had happened over the long years apart. Each night they found themselves reluctant to part, prolonging their stay a little more. He discovered that she had grown into a well educated and refined young woman with an intelligence and wit he had never known in her kind. She learnt that he had become fierce warrior and Arthur's finest and most trusted scout, but who still kept himself aloof, not able to express himself with others. With her he opened up and talked as he had never talked to anyone before, and feelings began to grow between them. Feelings which both knew they could not be realised but neither could they be denied or ignored.

One night he asked her about the lord she was to marry. She looked at him in surprise and shrugged her shoulder. She had never met him.

"He is too busy with the politics of this land, I am told." She said quietly.

He laughed scornfully and she turned questioning eyes upon him.

"If I were in his place, I would be here every night little dove, and politics would not be what would concern me, but rather the sweetness of your lips."

She turned indignant eyes on him but before she could protest to what he had said, he had found her mouth, his strong arms wrapping around her body, holding her tightly against him. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart leapt. His lips felt warm and she jolted when she felt his tongue softly probing her lips coaxing her mouth open. She gasped and Tristan slipped his tongue in to explore the sweetness of her mouth. Slowly breaking the kiss, he pulled back and looked into her shocked face. Chuckling he took advantage of her stunned reaction and leaned in once again. This time he deepened the kiss and his own heart jolted when he felt her hesitant response to him. She pressed her opened palms against his chest and felt his heart beating quickly. A sweet languor washed over her and she lost herself in this feeling for a moment before she pushed him away.

"Tristan no!" she gasped, but still he kept her close to him for a moment longer before letting her go.

"You have never been kissed by a man little dove." He said softly. She blushed crimson and shook her head, looking down at her feet.

She heard his warm laughter and looked up to see his eyes sparkling.

"Do not fear me little dove. I will not do anything unless you ask it of me." And he leaned in to kiss her.

She savoured the warmth of his lips before pushing him away.

"I thought you said you wouldn't do anything unless I asked you to."

He looked at her and smiled.

"Aye, I did." And his grin was so mischievous that her heart melted. She hesitated only a moment before smiling.

"Then kiss me again!" she whispered.

Laughing, he complied.

Now their nightly meetings began earlier and ended later but with less talk and more kisses and caresses, interrupted only when Tristan was away on duty. The Saxons were invading and the Romans were getting ready to leave Britain. Tristan only had a few days of service left and he would receive his papers of safe conduct throughout the empire and then they would leave. She was to travel to Rome and he was to leave for Sarmatia. Her wedding had been postponed and would now take place in Rome, since the situation in Britain was too unstable. She kept thinking about the day they were to go their separate ways and she found her heart ached. One night Tristan came to her, his eyes troubled.

"Tomorrow we go to meet the Bishop's carriage and escort him here to the fort." He said quietly. She looked at him. Tomorrow he was to receive his papers. She ran into his open arms.

"Our time is almost up little dove." He said sadly.

She nodded, burying her face against his chest. He leaned down and taking her face softly in his hands kissed her sweetly. When their lips parted, she looked into his eyes.

"Tristan, you said that if I asked…"

Tristan looked at her, not daring to hope.

"Make me yours Tristan…"

He spread his cloak out on the ground under the oldest peach tree which stood in the corner of the orchard and there claimed her as his.


	3. Chapter 3

Badon Hill. How she hated the sound of that name. How she hated that place. They were on their way to the port, Tristan and the other knights bringing up the rear. Arthur had decided to remain and lead the Woad army against the Saxons.

_Erato and Tristan had said their goodbyes the night before. After making the sweetest love to her, she had held him in her arms and had asked a question that she has wanted to ask but which tore at her heart whenever she thought of it. She stroked his hair lovingly, trying to brand the feel of it in her memory. _

"_Tristan, when you go to battle, do you not fear dying?"_

_There was silence for a few moments before he answered._

"_I don't think about it. I know that at any moment, one wrong move, one slow response and I will be no more but it is what I do. What saddened me in the past was the knowledge that if I fell, there would be no one to care, no one to mourn for me, but no longer…"_

_She tightened her grip and she started to cry softly. He looked up into her face._

"_I'm sorry dove, I saddened you…"and kissed her tears away._

"_No. I…I just realised that although I dread the day we are to part, I'd rather that and know you lived than…"_

_He had smiled and crushed her to him before laying her down and loving her with all the tenderness he felt welling up in his heart._

The knights had stopped and within minutes everyone knew that they had decided to return and fight by their commander's side. The caravan turned about and made its way back. Her father, brother and future husband had also decided to stay and fight since their fortune lay in this land.

She got out of the wagon in time to see Tristan in full armour. The sight of him took her breath away. He looked so forbidding, sitting proudly on his war horse. She looked into his eyes and smiled, her own shining with all the love she felt for him in her heart. He smiled and then turned, spurring his horse into a gallop.


	4. Chapter 4

The men returned exhausted but victorious. She ran to the wall straining to see the knight with the hawk riding back. Scanning the approaching group of warriors she soon saw his horse being led forward and his hawk following behind, but she did not see him. As the realisation dawned on her she sank to the ground shaking. Her numbed mind screamed that it could not be, but her heart was already shattering. He was no more….

How long she sat there, she did not know. At one point she pulled herself up and stumbled back to her room and still the tears did not come. She went and stood at the window looking out at the landscape but her eyes saw nothing. A knock was heard on her door. Her throat was so constricted that she couldn't call out, instead she sat there mutely looking out the window.

"My lady, will you not come down to the hall to eat?" her maid asked.

She turned dull lifeless eyes to the girl and shook her head. As the girl was leaving, Erato called out to her.

"When are they to bury the fallen?" she asked, her lips dry, her throat tight.

"Tomorrow morning." The girl replied sadly.

Erato took a deep breath.

"Where are they kept now?" her voice shook.

"The Christian soldiers are in the church of our Lady, whilst the pagan soldiers are in the stables." She said quietly.

Erato looked at her for a moment before turning to gaze out the window once more.

That night she went down to the stables. Pausing a moment to take a deep breath, she pushed the door open. Torches had been lit, but no one was there. She stood at the threshold and sadly looked at the dead. With a sob she saw Tristan and with unsteady footsteps walked to where his body lay. His wounds had been cleaned and he had been dressed in a green tunic with black leggings. Sinking to the ground, she reached out and touched his cheek. It felt cold under her fingers. She leant over and caressed his hair, her tears falling on his face. Gently she whipped them away. She impulsively reached out and slipped her hand into his and sobbed. She would have given her life to feel him squeeze her hand as he had done in the past. How long she stayed there, not even she knew. As the first rays of the sun shone through the cracks of the wooden door, she leant down and kissed his lips.

"Good bye my love. You will always be in my heart until we meet again." And rising to her feet left.

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The bells of our Lady rang out joyfully as the bride and groom left the church. The bride wore a flowing gown of white satin and her hair fell about her shoulders. A month had passed since the battle at Badon Hill and a new unified Britain was emerging under the reign of Arthur who had asked her new husband to stay on as his advisor. Her husband now looked down at her and smiled. He had been concerned for her. The first two weeks after the battle, she had been listless and pale, but of late her mood had improved as had her appearance. A breeze, heavy with the scent of peaches caught the bride's veil causing her to look up in time to see a hawk in flight. She smiled and impulsively covered her belly with her hand. She had not had her woman's flow for some time and now knew that she carried Tristan's child in her womb.

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Another fearful contraction made her feel as if her body was being wrenched in two.

"One more push Lady, the head is out, now all we need is the rest of the little one!" the midwife said encouragingly.

Erato took a deep breath and bearing down pushed as hard as she could. She felt the baby slip out and saw the midwife catch it in her hands.

"You have a fine son my Lady!" she said excitedly.

Erato closed her eyes as a single tear ran down her cheek. Within minutes she was cradling her son in her arms. Looking down into his tiny face, she smiled, lightly caressing his soft dark hair cautiously with her finger. Two beautiful brown eyes looked up at her…

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"How many times have I told you to be more careful!" Erato scolded her young son. He stood in front of her, his hair unruly and his clothes unkept with his head bent. He had fallen from a stone wall and had cut his knee. His mother was, as usual, distraught when he was hurt. The surgeon had cleaned the wound and wrapped it up before he was presented to her.

She now had six children, four boys and two girls and although her husband had died a few years back, in her late thirties, she was still beautiful. Suitors often came to her door but they were all turned away. She now set her energy to raising her children of whom her first born was her pride and joy, even though she vehemently denied it when the other women teased her about it.

She looked at her son and taking his face between her hands looked into his brown eyes.

"I can't lose you…" she whispered.

The boy looked at her.

"You still mourn the loss of our father…"

"I will always mourn the loss of your father, my darling." She said and her eyes misted.

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Erato walked quickly down the corridor leading to her son's quarters. She had been in the next village when a messenger arrived telling her that her daughter in law's pains had begun. By the time she had gotten back to the fort, the child had been born. Knocking impatiently on the door, she pushed it open. Her son stood by his wife who was cradling the baby in her arms.

"You have a fine grandson mother!" her son said, his eyes twinkling.

She walked over and giving her son a quick hug and a kiss on her daughter in law's forehead, bent over to see the baby.

The young woman smiled and held the baby out to Erato who took the bundle into her arms.

The little one was cooing softly looking up at her with his beautiful brown eyes. His father's eyes, his grandfather's eyes…and she smiled.

"A fine boy!" she said happily.

"What shall you call him?" she asked caressing the soft brown tuft on the baby's head.

"We were thinking of naming him after one of Arthur's fallen Sarmatian knights mother." Her son said softly.

Erato's hand stilled and she looked up sharply, her breath caught in her throat.

"What think you of the name Tristan?"

She looked at them both stunned for a moment before a smile slowly lit up her face.

"I think it is a fine name." she said felling her heart lurch.

Clutching the baby to her chest, she turned to hide the single tear which ran down her cheek.

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Grandmother, are you alright?" her granddaughter asked.

"Yes child I'm fine…We'll be going soon." Erato said and waved her away.

The girl tuned and went back to the bench. She could still smell peaches but she couldn't understand from where the scent came. She felt a breeze on her face and heard the rustling of leaves overhead.

"Hello little dove."

She looked up sharply, startled to hear his voice after so many years. He was crouched on the wall smiling down at her, his eyes twinkling. He was as he had been when he first came to her that night so many years ago.

"Tristan!" she said smiling, her face lighting up.

"I have missed you so!" she said, tears filling her eyes. Her heart lurched and she felt as if it would burst from happiness.

"And I you my dove…" he whispered his smile lighting his face up.

"You won't leave me again, will you?" she asked fearfully.

His smile broadened and he held his hand out to her.

"Never! Come dove, it is time we were off. It's only a short ways from here and I will be with you."

"Always?" she whispered.

"Always my little dove."

Reaching up she took his hand, pausing only briefly to look back at the young girl who now knelt over the fallen and crumpled body of an old woman.


End file.
